


Pony

by Jersey



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Plug, BDSM, Bondage, F/M, Forced Petplay, I'm so sorry I did this, Leather, Pet Play, Petplay, Pony Play, Ponygirl, Rape, Training, evil heroes - Freeform, human pony, people kept as pets, pointless smut, pony girl, ponyplay, slave - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 16:50:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13708611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jersey/pseuds/Jersey
Summary: In a world where debtors can be taken as slaves and trained into human pets for investors rich enough to pay off their debt, Pepper Potts finds herself framed and on the wrong end of a leash. Taken captive for debt that's not hers, Pepper is enslaved and discovers she is to be turned into a human pony for her sadistic investor.





	Pony

**Author's Note:**

> Follow Pepper's initial capture, processing, and breaking into a perfect pony.

**PONY**

They approach her on the street, right out in broad daylight; agents in perfectly pressed and prim uniforms, their IRSE badges shining in the sunlight as they step forward. Pepper Potts has nothing to hide, nothing to worry about, so she thinks nothing of it. Her financial affairs are in tidy order, all her fiscal books neatly arranged and stringently maintained by the accountants of Stark Industries along with her own, personal accountant. As such, when the enforcement agents approach, Pepper greets them with a warm smile and a friendly wave, chilled when it is not returned.

“Are you Pepper Potts?” one of the agents barks at her as they might a delinquent debtor who has entered their system.

Pepper nods slowly, cautiously. “I am. What can I do for you?”

The agent ignores the question, tapping a radio at his ear. “Let the records show the subject voluntarily identified herself.”

When another agent approaches briskly and grabs her roughly by the forearm, Pepper balks, quite abruptly afraid. “What’s going on?”

The enforcement agent holding her ignores the question and orders brusquely, “Shut your mouth and behave.”

“I have rights,” the business woman snarls back venomously.

The first agent to approach her shakes his head. “No. You don’t.” He orders the second agent. “Check her chip.”

“What the fuck?” she growls, jerking against the grip on her arm. “I don’t have a chip.”

The agent holding her moves swiftly, much more quickly that Pepper ever could. It is the product of years of rigorous government training and safety standards, she knows. He produces something from his side and jabs it to her neck with a brief, cool kiss. Her body lights up with white hot agony flaring through her, blinding her with pain and stunning her; a tazer. She dizzily staggers and nearly crumples to her knees from the shock, but the agent holds her arm tighter and keeps her upright.

The other agent sighs heavily, like any other underpaid government employee. He crosses the distance between them, producing a small, black device from his belt. Pepper sees it out of the corner of her eye and recognizes the thing as an RFID tag reader. Even though her disorientation, the business woman feels her heart lighten; they’ll see she has no chip. Then, she can sue them and IRSE for all its worth. The agent with the chip reader shoves her head down and her hair aside to pass the reader wand over her neck. Pepper holds her breath, waiting for that moment of righteous satisfaction.

To her horror, the device beeps, and the agent nods. “Chip verified.”

Pepper writhes and twists in terror. She has no idea how an IRSE RFID tag got under her skin, but Pepper knows what happens to anyone with a chip. She has seen them in rare circumstances; wards of the state kept as human pets in exchange for their debts to the country. Her friends and family have never supported the practice, but Pepper has never been blind to this truth. Pepper fights with everything its worth, but she is too weakened from the shock. The agents are too strong. Despite her struggles, they wrench her arms behind her back and shackle her by the wrists. Then, while one agent holds her, the other fixes hobbles to her ankles.

“No…” Pepper finally regains command of her voice. “This is a mistake…”

“Subject restrained,” one of the agents notes on their radio.

The IRSE van is not far away. While one of the agents hauls Pepper alone by her elbow, the other strides ahead. Pepper stumbles and staggers against the hobbles, the metal shackles digging into her skin even through her pantyhose, tearing the nylons. She jumps and pulls when the van door slides open, but the agents do not seem to even notice or care.

“Please don’t….” Pepper cries out, shrieking wildly “Somebody help me!”

“I thought I told you before to shut your mouth,” one of the agents hisses in her ear as they work together to lift her and shove her into the back of the van.

“You’re making a _big_ mistake,” Pepper argues, mustering her best business glare and attempting to kick out even as they secure her wrist restrains to a bolt on the van’s interior wall.

“Oh, just gag her already.”

The van is fully stocked. Of course it would be. IRSE is well funded and thorough in their handling of all affairs. It is no effort at all for the agents to easily grab a gag – a round, red ball with a series of black straps and buckles coming off of it. Pepper freezes, clenching her teeth shut, but the agents are stronger and much more practiced in these matters. They simply taze her once more, and, while she cannot fight it, they jam the ball in her mouth and begin to fix the straps over her head. One of the straps wraps under her chin, forcing the jaw up around the gag, while another set of straps cross over her face to join in the back. When it is secured and locked, there is no hope for Pepper to force the ball out with her tongue.

Then, as if to add insult to injury, one of the agents ruffles her hair and whispers almost gently in her ear, “This will all be so much easier on you when you stop fighting.”

‘When’ and not ‘if.’ That simple, seemingly insignificant phrasing nuance catches Pepper’s ear and hangs in her brain. It paralyzes her. She hardly notices the agents leaving her to secure and lock the van’s cargo compartment before climbing into the front. She only turns that word ‘when’ over in her mind again and again through the whole drive.

xxx

xxxxx

xxx

The IRSE facility in every town has no less than two major entrances. The front entrance that faces outward presents a stern but modern curb appeal. The design varies greatly, but most include sleek, practical designs, with clean lines and some sparse plantings. It is meant to be professional and businesslike, a reminder that IRSE are there to serve the people. It is also meant to be a welcome for anyone who has come to invest in the products that IRSE has to offer.

Beyond that entrance, Pepper knows, are a few well-appointed offices for initial investor meetings and financial actions. Human pets are not cheap, so the IRSE works hard to welcome clientele and make the investment process as painless as possible, especially for financing bulk contracts. Then, there are the kennels and viewing areas. Cute little cubicles and suites for investors to fawn over human slaves dolled up as kittens, puppies, bunnies, ponies, and all sorts of other pets – anything to meet an investor’s desires and make them feel as comfortable as possible through the entire affair. The viewing areas are always well stocked with a selection of simple toys to allow investors to thoroughly vet their potential pet, as well as coffee, water, and sometimes snacks.

The rear entrances, however, are a vastly different story. Pepper has never seen the rear entrance to any IRSE facility until now, as the agents drag her from the van, but a part of her knows they must be similar in their utilitarian function. The rear of the building features a secure yard with high fences topped with barbed wire. Armed guards keep watch from turrets above the yard, and armed IRSE agents and canine units patrol the perimeter. The yard its self appears to be more like a loading dock than anything else, with several vans there. Several uniformed agents stand around, smoking and talking amongst themselves, while other agents work to haul their charges from their vans and into the building.

Pepper fights, digging her heels into the ground, but it is hard. The short length of chain to her ankle hobbles prevents Pepper from planting her feet well and maintaining and sense of purchase. Her Jimmy Choos do not help matters, with their smooth soles and pointed heels. She yells and screams the entire time, but everything comes out as unintelligible gibberish through the gag lodged firmly in her mouth.

The agents handling Pepper easily bring her in through the loading docks to a bland room with several chairs and a single set of double doors to the side. Each of the chairs is occupied by someone not unlike Pepper. Some are gagged like Pepper, but all of them are chained to the chair they seat in. Some are crying, while others rage and fight like Pepper does. It is all for naught. The agents shove Pepper firmly into one of the chairs. One of them rests his knee over her legs while the other locks her in place by clipping her ankle restrains to the legs of the chair and wrapping a chain about her lap. That is all it requires to secure Pepper.

Their charge deposited, the agents leave, joking about a football game like any other blue collar worker handling mail might. Pepper fumes in her chair. She pulls and tugs on her restraints, but none of them give. IRSE has made excellent investments in their security.

Hours pass, long enough for the fear to creep in once more. As Pepper sits, the people around her change. Agents bring in more people and chain them to a chair like Pepper. At the same time, staff dressed in overly starched scrubs adorned with the IRSE seal come from the double doors at odd intervals and take one of their captives at a time through the doors.

Then, they come for her.

Three burly men come for her, stopping in front of her chair and folding their arms across their chest. Pepper knows they are simply posturing to create an impression. The irritation and rage prickles at the back of her neck again. This will all be sorted out, and these orderlies will meet the same legal fate as the agents who have brought her here.

One of them speaks to her, his voice low, stern, and threatening. “This can be easy or hard. Up to you.” Pepper glares, and the man smirks. “Hard it is.”

They release her from the chair and bodily haul Pepper from the waiting room. She fights and rails against them, but they are too strong. They outnumber her as well. Her resistance only causes them to chuckle as they work. Pepper is no match for them as they bring her through the double doors to a long hallway and throw her into a small, room.

The room worries Pepper. The floor is tile, tilted ever so slightly towards a drain in the middle. There is a section of chain hanging from the ceiling right above the drain. A metal ring has been embedded in the floor beside the drain. Cabinets line one side of the room, while the other side of the room has several shelves loaded with bottles above a loop of hose. The wall closest to the door, however, has a plain desk with a computer.

Before Pepper can read too much into it, the orderlies bring her to the center of the room. While two hold her still, the third kneels down and clips the chain on her hobbles with a basic carabiner. Then, he unlocks Pepper’s wrist shackles. The other two hold her by her arms and bring her hands forward for him to put a new set of shackles on her pale wrists that they then secure over her head to the chain hanging from the ceiling.

One of the orderlies taps away at the computer. “Verifying identity.”

He hands an RFID wand to one of the others, who waves it behind Pepper’s neck. The wand beeps again, and they compare the numbers on the device to a computer file. They nod approvingly. Pepper screams through her gag, but they ignore her.

The third orderly forces Pepper to lift her feet enough to pry the shoes off of her feet. When Pepper’s toes touch the cold, tile floor, she shivers, but, then, Pepper reminds herself that she can resist better without her stylish shoes and their ludicrous heels. Then, to her mounting dismay and terror, he retrieves a pair of sturdy surgical sheers from the cabinets to the side. Quickly but precisely, the orderly cuts the elegant suit from her body, leaving Pepper in her underwear. He balls up the shreds of what had once been an expensive outfit and, then, returns to cut away her bra, panties, and stockings, leaving her completely nude. One of the other orderlies pulls out a set of electric clippers and undoes the strap crossing over her head just long enough to shave off her long, red locks before buckling the strap tightly once more. She cries against the indignity, tears rolling down her cheeks as the orderly easily discards the clothing.

Then, the orderlies just leave her hanging there, sobbing against the gag and feeling utterly humiliated and violated.

xxx

xxxxx

xxx

When the door opens again, Pepper already feels exhausted and wrung out by the events of her day. Her arms and legs ache. Her nerves burn. She is not ready to face whatever is coming now.

“Good afternoon,” a cheery voice greets her.

Pepper glances up and finds a woman standing across from her. The woman looks rather like a business professional. Her black dress slacks and neatly pressed, white button-down shirt look so much like something one of the interns in legal might wear. She carries a tablet with her. The newcomer pauses and surveys Pepper before sighing heavily.

“I had a feeling you might have given our guys a hard time.” Pepper grunts through the gag, desperate to speak, and the stranger shushes her. “Hold on, hold on. Hold your horses.”

The woman smirks oddly and knowingly as she reaches behind Pepper’s head to unbuckle the harness that holds the ball gag in place. As soon as the many buckles are released, the woman slides the thing off of Pepper’s head. The red ball falls from her lips, but Pepper’s jaw aches with stiffness from remaining in the same position for so very long. Pepper has to work her mouth and jaw to loosen the joints there.

“That’s better,” the woman says approvingly. “Now-“

“This is a _big_ mistake,” Pepper hisses darkly through her teeth, interrupting the woman.

The woman glances down at her tablet and flicks through a few files. “Hmmm…. No. No mistake here.” She pauses on a file and shakes her head. “Except for shoddy work at Malibu intake.”

Pepper stiffens at the mention of Malibu. “What?”

The woman turns her tablet around and shows Pepper a video file. It is grainy security footage, clearly copied from a CCTV camera. The footage displays a lot, not unlike the yard in the back of this facility. A woman burst from the doors to the facility and bolts out the parking lot. When the video freezes and zooms in, the woman has Pepper’s face.

Pepper blanches at the sight of it, but the woman mildly comments, “I would think you’d know better than to run.”

“That’s not me….” Pepper whispers, her mouth abruptly dry.

The woman raises her brow. “Oh, it’s not? Then who is it? Some other ‘Pepper Potts’ who looks exactly like you and has the same RFID tag as you?”

“I don’t….. I don’t understand. I never…..”

“Shh shh shhhhh,” the woman croons gently. “You don’t have to understand. You don’t have to worry about that ever again. It’s ok. Almost every pet gets cold feet at first, but you don’t have to worry about anything again.”

The woman reaches to stroke Pepper’s cheek, likely meant to be a reassuring gesture, but Pepper jerks back. “Don’t touch me.”

The woman tsks her. “You should be thankful. You still have an investor interested in you even with that little escape artist stunt.”

“This is all a misunderstanding, a mistake. I have friends. Powerful friends. They’ll be looking for me. And when they find me, I’m going to sue the shit out of you and the IRSE,” Pepper threatens, meaning every word of it.

The woman laughs so hard she snorts. “Please. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that?” She shakes her head again and tsks. “You made your bed, but, now, you’re too scared to lie in it.” The woman returns her attention to the tablet. “Now, c’mon, just make my job and your life easier and cooperate with me. One word answers.”

The woman asks Pepper a series of questions, mostly yes or no questions. Many of them involve verifying medical information. Previous conditions or injuries. Allergies. Medications. Pepper resolutely refuses to answer any of them. However, to her mounting concern, IRSE does seem to know an astonishing amount about her, including her allergy to strawberries. They have files on her, medical files even. The woman barely flinches when Pepper holds her tongue; this must be a formality more than anything.

Eventually, the woman sighs and shakes her head. “Fine. Enjoy processing.”

The woman leaves, and Pepper feels her heart sinking further and further as the door closes.

xxx

xxxxx

xxx

When two, burly orderlies enter the room, Pepper jumps. However, they do not seem to concern themselves with her. Instead, they are talking about their kids and schools, talking over Pepper. They speak over her like they would a child or a family pet. It chills her to the core.

“Science isn’t his strong suit, y’know?” one of them comments blandly as he begins to unravel the hose.

“What are you doing?” Pepper demands.

He ignores her and her shrieks as he sprays her with icy cold water. “He says the teacher’s got it in for him, but I know he’s just not putting in the effort, y’know?”

When the water stops and the two of them step in to slather Pepper’s body in soap and rub it everywhere, the other one murmurs, “I hear you. My little girl’s hit that age where school just isn’t as interesting as Instagram.”

Pepper bucks and fights wildly, especially when they soap up her genitals and her breasts. They pointedly do not react, do not comment. Instead, they just carry on with their conversation. The only reaction she gets is a stern slap to the face after she tries to bite one of them. The blow stuns her enough that one of the men is able to lather up her hair as well. Then, they spray her down again, rinsing the soap away. Afterwards, one of them reaches into the cabinets for an overly bleached towel that he uses to roughly scrub away the water and dry her. Pepper does not fight against this; she is too cold to argue against this all too minor of comforts.

One of them is going through a cabinet, and asks, “Small, y’think?”

The other looks Pepper up and down and nods. “Yeah. Definitely small.” He fixes his gaze squarely on Pepper. “I’m going to release your arms. You fight us, and my buddy here is going to taze your sweet ass. You got that?”

Pepper nods. However, as soon as her wrists are unlocked, she fights. The world erupts in lightning flashes, and, then, everything goes dark.

xxx

xxxxx

xxx

When awareness comes back to Pepper, she realizes she has been moved to a different room. To her very great horror, she has been fitted with a thick, hefty leather collar that holds her head in a stiff, posture. She has also been put into some kind of harness of leather straps crisscrossing her body. The harness has several d-rings and attachment points which currently are holding her secured to the uncomfortable chair beneath her. She tries to reach for the harness, only to find her hands will not move. Something encases her arms, molded over her hands and holding them closed. Whatever the things are, they hold her arms behind her back.

Worse still, a new gag is in her mouth, a painful, steel contraption that holds her jaws wide open. Judging by the drool that has already pooled in her mouth and dribbled over her chin, the gag has been in place for some time. Pepper shouts against it, but she knows it will fall on deaf ears. She screams until she is hoarse.

Eventually, a small, rat-faced man dressed in a parody of a doctor enters the room. He does not greet Pepper. Instead, he flicks through his own tablet, likely pulling up her file and studying it. Then, he sits down beside her and sets out a series of strange, frightening tools on the table. Pepper does not recognize any of them or their use, but she does recognize the sterile packaging they come in. These are medical tools. The thought sends her heart racing and causes her to panic. Small, pained sounds come from around the metal gag.

“Oh, now, none of that,” the man chides her. “Hush now.”

He sticks some sort of tool in her mouth and peers down inside her throat. Then, the man takes a long flexible tube with a wide eyepiece on the end and shoves it into her mouth. When the cool, metal tube contacts the back of Pepper’s tongue and she gags, Pepper whines against it. The doctor does not react. Instead, he threads another thing down her throat beside the tube. He peers into the eyepiece, watching as the second tool descends. Pepper want to yell, to scream, to force it out, but it is taking everything in her not to vomit from the alien sensation alone.

Then, quite abruptly, there is a flash of searing hot pain and the smell of burnt flesh emanating from her throat. Pepper cries out, but her sobs are dampened weirdly. When the pain returns again in her throat, no sound comes from her. The doctor makes an approving sound and draws the tools out of her throat. Pepper feels the tears rolling down her cheeks as her body trembles in shock.

“Much better,” the man sings to himself. Then, he waits for Pepper to settle before commenting, “Y’know, you’re quite lucky to have an investor already, _and_ that your investor has made all the really hard choices already. Don’t have to keep running back and forth. No. We can get this all done in one shot.”

When Pepper furrows her brow, struggling to comprehend, the man returns his hands to her mouth. She feels a pressure around one of her teeth, her lower, left canine, and, then, there is a terrible wrenching there. Pepper howls soundlessly as the tooth is pried from her jaw with a splash of coppery blood, followed by the pre-molar and first molar behind it. Fresh tears course down her cheeks, especially when she realizes he intends to do this to the other side, as well as both sides of her upper jaw. Before he even makes it there, Pepper passes out from the agony.

xxx

xxxxx

xxx

Pepper awakens again as the man is finishing. A woman dressed something like a nurse is holding Pepper’s lower lip pulled down, exposing the inside. Something buzzes there, scoring a line of fresh pain that distracts from the hollow, dull aches of the freshly vacated sockets in her jaw. He hums to himself in time with the buzzing. Pepper’s addled head takes far too long to realize that the vibration there is from a tattoo gun. They are tattooing the inside of her lip.

“There,” the man announces, leaning back. “Quite clean.”

Pepper doesn’t care how clean the tattoo is or what has been tattooed on the inside of her lip. She only cares that someone has had audacity to tattoo her without her consent. It is somehow a crueler blow than the thought of having her good, healthy teeth ripped from her head.

Pepper sighs in relief as the nurse lets go of her lip and removes the metal gag from her mouth. She sags in the chair. Her mind whispers what her voice cannot; it is over now. They’re done mutilating her.

“One last thing,” the man says, turning around in the chair.

Pepper gasps and argues, but only a dry hiss comes from her ruined throat. She cannot argue, cannot yell or bicker, not when the man pinches one of her nipples and expertly pierces it with a clean, fresh needle. She cannot cry or scream when he pierces the other. Instead, as she silently whimpers and quivers, the man replaces the needles with plain, stainless steel hoops.

He makes a few notes on the tablet as the nurse works on Pepper. Pepper does not fight now. The fight has been beaten from her for the day. She lies listlessly as the nurse fits her with a harness over her head. The straps buckle in several places, and, while there is a sturdy ring at either side of her mouth, the harness mercifully does not include a gag of any kind. However, it does include squares of leather situated beside each of her eyes, narrowing Pepper’s field of vision.

The man injects something with a wide, scary syringe into Pepper’s thigh, and the world grows dark once more.

xxx

xxxxx

xxx

When Pepper awakes again, she is on her side and curled up, the leather of her harness securing her to a thin palette of a bed. It is a mockery of the recovery position with her hands so effectively and cruelly bound behind her back. Her lower back throbs with a dull pain that Pepper cannot place, but she knows better than to reach for it.

There are others there in long rows of bunks in a windowless room, much like Pepper. Each has been positioned the same way. Each has been bound the same. The one across from Pepper offers a unique vantage point, allowing her to survey the back of their bindings. The things holding her arms – if they’re anything like the ones the woman across from her bears – are like sleeves that run all the way up her arm. There are cuffs there at the wrists, sturdy, leather things. And the hands? They are mitts shaped rather oddly. In the haze of her suffering, Pepper cannot place the shape, but it is oddly familiar.

Pepper does not sleep. She cannot between her fear and the bright, industrial lighting overhead. Many of the captives wake and cry. The small, lurching moments of their voiceless sobs rocks their beds with loud creaks.

xxx

xxxxx

xxx

In what she assumes to be the morning, someone is there to feed Pepper processed food from a pouch. She wants to fight, but they hold her by the harness over her head. Her stomach growls too loud to argue against it either. Instead, as they hold her, Pepper allows a flavorless mush to be squeezed from the pouch onto her tongue. She swallows it, grateful for how it soothes the aching pit in her stomach and eases her pain. Drugged, she knows it.

Then, the person tending to her unstraps her from the bed and clips a lead to one of the rings on the harness close to her mouth. Pepper cannot fight, cannot balk. Instead, she floats as they lead her from the bed to the toilet. She does not even feel the shame when she relieves herself. Nor does she feel the shame when they shower her, when they examine her wounds, or when they return her to bed and strap her down once more.

This repeats again and again. There are no windows or clocks for Pepper to know exactly how much time has passed. The drugs make it hard to focus and get a clear sense of it either. However, she does know that it is long enough for her jaw and whatever has been done to her lower back to heal. She knows this for the man who took her teeth and voice tells her so in an examination room.

He makes a note on the tablet. “Perfect. Not one complication or delay. Your investor will be very pleased.”

After that, Pepper is not returned to the room with all the beds. Instead, a trio of staff members come to the room. They pry her mouth open and stuff a metal bit like a horse-bit in. The metal rests perfectly in the slots created by her missing teeth. Pepper tries to push it out with her tongue before the men can fix it to her head harness, but a weird, paddle like protrusion from the bit holds her tongue down. Once the bit is secured, they transfer the leads to the rings on the bit, rather like reins.

Before they even bring the boots, Pepper finally understands with a sickening, terrifying jolt. She is to be a pony. She has heard rumors about ponies and their treatment. She has seen pictures of them in their harnesses, tugging dutifully at carts and carriages. Humans kept as horses. The knee high ebony boots, with their high arches and hoof like toes, only serve to confirm her suspicion. They slip on easily; someone has sized her for these boots during her recovery.

One of the men releases the restraints that hold her down. He takes the reins in hand and steps back. Then, he gives a small, even pull on the reins, encouraging her up. The pressure is sharp against her lower jaw, and the thing on her tongue presses horribly. Pepper has no choice but to follow his lead.

“That’s it. Easy girl. Easy,” he speaks in soothing tones as one would to a spooked horse; it is the most compassionate anyone has treated her this whole time. “Just take it nice and slow.”

Pepper follows his pull, putting her legs over the side of the examination chair. As he nods and praises her, Pepper sets her feet down. The hooves and strict arches do not allow her to plant her foot on the ground as she needs to after all this time in bed. Instead, they force her to stand on the balls of her feet in a twisted parody of an equine. It throws her balance off entirely.

“Okay, girl. It’s gonna take some getting used to, but let’s try a few steps here so you can get your bearings.”

The man guides her around the chair in slow, lazy circles. She stumbles, uneasy in the high boots. She has spent much of her adult life in high heels, but the hooves are another matter entirely. They are awkward and cumbersome. Her bound arms leave her unable to balance herself. She trips over her own feet a few times, unaccustomed to the feel of the hefty soles beneath her toes. The boots click on the floor brightly.

“That’s a good girl.” A hand strokes down her neck as he praises her. “Good girl.”

Pepper’s stomach twists at this. He is reinforcing this. He _wants_ her to be a pony. He is the proverbial ‘good cop’ in all this, easing her into this life.

“Now, before we go, you need one last touch,” the man says warmly. He rifles through his own pockets for a second before Pepper feels something prodding at the base of her back and tickling her at her calves. “Perfect.”

Pepper tries to turn to see, but a part of her already knows what is there. She can feel the delicate whisper of long hairs against her bare skin. She can feel their weight of it held by something _in_ her back, something anchored beneath her skin. It is a tail. They have given her a tail. Peppers wants to be sick, but she knows better than to give in to that urge with the severe bit in her mouth.

The man strokes her cheek and sighs. “If you didn’t already have an investor….” He whistles, a wolfish sound. “You’d win so many ribbons for me.” A hand runs down her back, trailing to her hip and lingering there like a hot brand. “Sorry, girl.”

He leads her by the reins. Pepper allows herself to be ferried along by the reins. It is better than feeling the press of the bit against her jaw and tongue. The man calmly takes his time, as though allowing her to get better acquainted with the boots. He speaks to her the whole way, keeping up a litany of soothing, meaningless sounds and mutterings that do nothing to block out the shrieks and cries of new intakes.

Pepper knows what this is. She has been processed into the system now and designated a pony; it is time for her to move from initial processing to basic training – to _breaking_. Every step and every horribly bright clip clop of her steps is a death knoll of sorts.

The man takes her out a different set of doors to the yard. A trailer waits there, a simple, silver thing meant for real horses or other livestock. The rear ramp is already down and waiting her. Pepper freezes when the man leading her begins to climb up towards the trailer. The reins tug on the bit, but she shakes her head. She cannot speak, but, instead, begs with every fiber of her being. No. Not this. No. If she leaves the intake center, there is a good chance no one will ever find her. She will just be another pony out there, someone’s pet to use as they see fit.

“Aw, there’s nothing to be afraid of, girl,” the man says warmly to her. He gives the reins another tug. “C’mon. Good girls load nicely.”

Pepper shakes her head and instantly curses the moment. In a human, it would be a clear ‘no.’ In a pony, it looks like she is simply tossing her head, a rather equine gesture. It looks like she is getting into the role, embracing her new life as a pony.

“C’mon, girl,” he calls and clucks to her.

She side steps on the boots, trying to pull away. Again, the motions and actions must look so very much like that of a naughty or spooked pony. Pepper curses mentally every one of these assholes. However, before she can fight any further, something sharply smacks against her hip. Pepper jumps. A whip. Another man behind her cackles and hoots at her expense before sharply cracking the whip on her other side. That sends Pepper hurtling up the ramp, her hooves scraping and sliding on the incline. The man with the reins pulls her deeper into the trailer. Then, he ties her off. Pepper pulls against the knot but finds it will not give.

The man pauses and briefly strokes her hip once more. “You be a good girl.”

Then, he bounds off the trailer and helps close the ramp with a loud slam. The bolts slide into place, locking the trailer shut. Voices outside go back and forth as they talk. However, Pepper cannot hear them. She can only hear the blood rushing to her head at the thoughts of riding around on those awful boots or the thought of being seen. The trailer has long gaps at the top for ventilation, allowing Pepper to look out, yes, but anyone else can look in and see her in this pathetic pony get-up.

The truck rumbles to life, and they are off.

xxx

xxxxx

xxx

The drive is long and difficult. The boots offer no grip in the trailer, meaning Pepper has to struggle to stay upright. The hoof boots skid and slip on the trailer floor. It is a blessing, though. Focusing on not falling over means Pepper does not notice if anyone is staring at her in the trailer.

Eventually, they come to a stop.

The driver of the truck steps out and greets someone else. They exchange pleasantries as Pepper tries to recompose herself as best as possible granted her situation. They speak of the drive out and the traffic as Pepper balances herself on her new hooves.

“So, how’d she do?”

“Seemed alright for a new filly.”

“Well, let’s see her.”

The ramp drops down, and Pepper blinks against the afternoon light pouring in. Outside, two men stand. They look so very plain and innocent – like any other middle aged farmer or actual horseman. Pepper stares in shock. She always imagined pony owners and trainers to be sick fetishists and nothing more.

One of the men climbs up into the trailer slowly. “Easy, girl. I know you’ve had a long drive, but you’re home for now.” As he approaches, she backs away as much as the reins will allow, but he keeps talking in even tones. “We’ll get you unloaded and in your stall in a jiffy. Then, you can get some rest.”

Pepper blinks and tries to pull away, but the man is fast. He grabs her by the head harness, higher than her bit so that he can hold her steadily and firmly. Then, with his other hand, the man unties her reins. He grips them securely and lets go of the head harness. He gives Pepper a reassuring pat on her shoulder before turning away. Pepper has no choice but to follow his lead. She nearly slides and falls down the ramp, but the man coaxes her slowly, gently, letting Pepper take her time.

At the bottom of the ramp, the man holding her reins stops and allows Pepper to take in her surroundings. It is a farm. More than that, it looks like a traditional horse farm. There is a dusty arena to one side with colorful jumps. Pastures with high fences lie beyond that – some with ponies meandering about and others with actual equines. Before them stands a towering, mighty barn. Pepper wobbles in her boots at the sight.

“Alright, girl, let’s go.”

The man leads Pepper into the barn, down a long length of stalls. On one side, the stalls are filled with horses, the doors open to run outs. On the other side, the stalls are empty save for a few human ponies locked inside. They look to Pepper with wide eyes but say nothing. Pepper knows they cannot say anything, anyway. The man takes Pepper to the middle of the barn, to an open stall and leads her inside, shutting the door behind him. Once inside, he unclips the bit and removes it entirely from the bridle– reins and all. Released from his hold, Pepper backs away.

“It’s ok,” the man soothes. “I know you’ve have a long day. You just have yourself a good rest now.”

He backs away and closes the sliding stall door behind him.

xxx

xxxxx

xxx

Pepper does not rest or sleep as advised. Instead, she makes a few small circuits of her cell – _stall_ – surveying for any useful. The stall is lined with not hay as Pepper might have expected in another life, but sawdust. It is soft and almost plush against the soles of the boots. In one corner, a flannel blanket is draped over a section of thicker sawdust, clearly intended to be something of a bed for her. The walls reach to just above her shoulders with solid wood; above that is rounded, thick, steel bars that reach easily foot feet or more over that. On one side, an automatic waterer hangs at just the right height for Pepper to sip from, circulating fresh water almost silently. Not far from that are hooks and rings clearly meant for tying her or for hanging things for her.

Pepper snorts to herself and shakes her head. This place is a joke, a mockery of the horse stalls she had seen in the past. However, without the use of her hands, it looks inescapable. This means that she will either have to bide her time and find an escape or just wait until someone finds her.

Pepper paces for a while, until she needs to relieve herself. When she does, Pepper goes to the corner away from the door, the bed, and the automatic waterer. There, she squats, shame rising up in her cheeks as she must awkwardly shift the tail away from her to prevent it from becoming mussed and to provide some small measure of privacy. Although, Pepper doubts any of these people – or ponies – care, it is still tremendously humiliating. When she rises and carefully kicks some saw dust over her own piss and shit, Pepper avoids that corner.

Eventually, though, the stress of the weeks leading up to this and the morning catch up with the woman. She feels herself beginning to drift, exhausting tugging at her consciousness. She is forced to carefully, cautiously lower herself to the blanket in the corner and lie down. Pepper lies on her side, placing her back to the door for modesty. It is not comfortable, but it does not matter with how tired she is.

Sleep takes her almost instantly.

xxx

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xxx

“Hey. Wake up.”

The soft, mellow, caring voice of the man who escorted her from the trailer breaks through Pepper’s deep, dreamless sleep, stirring her. He calls rather gently and sweetly to her. Pepper furrows her brow and rolls over slowly to face him. He is crouched across from her, wearing a different set of clothes but the same, warm expression.

When her eyes meet his, he beams. “There you are. Good morning, girl.”

Pepper blinks. Morning? It is morning already? It seems almost impossible that an entire night has come and gone without her knowing.

“Time to get up and get some breakfast.”

He approaches her slowly, evenly. He does not react save to offer soothing sounds as Pepper recoils from her. He catches her by the bridle and begins to pull. Pepper has no choice but to follow, to allow herself to be dragged to her feet. She staggers on the bulky hooves, and it takes her a long moment to regain her balance.

“Easy, easy,” the man croons. When Pepper has sufficiently righted herself, he nods. “There. Good girl.”

He clips a lead shank to her bridle and guides her to the side of her stall. There, he ties Pepper off to one of the rings on the wall. As Pepper nervously shifts her weight on the unusual boots, he prepares a few things to her side. Pepper tries to see, but the blinders on her bridle prevent her from seeing. When he steps to her side, she recognizes one of the flavorless pouches of food in his hand. She is so hungry that Pepper opens her mouth without even being prompted, suckling eagerly at the pouch’s opening. The man laughs and strokes her neck as he might one of the actual equines.

When Pepper has finished, he takes the pouch away. Then, to her surprise, the man begins to brush her long tail. He plaits it up in an expert little bob of a braid. She tries to shy away, but her tie does not allow it. He just moves closer, wedging her against the wall until he finishes.

“There. You look so very smart, now.”

Pepper rolls her eyes behind the blinders, but, in that momentary distraction, the man grabs her halter and reinserts the bit in her mouth. Pepper gags at the feet of the cold bit and the strange tongue piece. He quickly clips the bit in place and checks the straps of her bridle.

“Good. Good girl,” he murmurs, rubbing her neck and shoulder.

Pepper shudders at the praise. She knows that, to a pony trainer or owner, _this_ is nice. _This_ is loving. _This_ is properly caring for and tending to one’s pony.

“We’ve got a busy day ahead, girl.”

He unclips the shank and leads Pepper out into the sunlight.

xxx

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xxx

A big day for a pony, as it seems, is a day of pure, unadulterated drudgery. The man works her in a dusty, lonely arena on the far side of the property, away from the prying eyes of the other human ponies and well away from the actual equines. He uses a longer lead clipped to her bit and a whip to drive her around in small circles about him for what feels like hours. Each time Pepper flags or missteps, he is there, with a quick click of his teeth and a flick of the whip on her hip. When it seems she has perfected her balance in her hooves in one direction, he turns her around and changes direction.

Each little sting of the whip on her hip, each small sound of encouragement or note underscores a simple point to Pepper. This man, for his sweet words and gentle touches, is meant to be her trainer. She resolves then, with every step, that she will _ruin_ this man when everything is said and done.

When the sun reaches its apex in the sky and the sweat is pouring down Pepper’s body, her trainer decides it is time for a break. He walks her slowly back to the barn down the middle aisle. He does not lead her into her stall. Instead, he stops her in the middle of the aisle and clips a chain from each side to her bridle – crossties. The crossties prevent her from moving too much in any direction.

Then, to her surprise and relief, her trainer wipes down the sweat from her body and removes the bit from her mouth, announcing, “Lunch time.”

Pepper perks up at the thought of food and water. The man chuckles. He alternates between offering her the liquid diet from a pouch and small sips of water. Pepper gratefully chokes everything he offers down. She knows she will need her strength if she is to ever escape. Afterwards, the man plucks something small and square from his pocket – a sugar cube. Pepper wants to spit at the sight of it, but he slides it between her lips anyway. The resultant burst of sweetness is almost orgasmic after weeks of flavorless nutrient pouches. She tries to suck it slowly, to make it last.

“Good ponies deserve treats,” her trainer says as a means of explanation, before picking up her bit again and holding it out to her. “Are you going to keep being my good girl?”

Wary this time, Pepper clenches her teeth against the thing. The man sighs and shakes his head. He grabs her firmly by the bridle, holding her when Pepper tries to sidestep. Then, he stabs a finger into her mouth, pressing against the tender flesh of her jaw where the teeth have been removed. There, he worms his finger into her mouth and to her tongue. She gags, and he uses that as his opportunity to replace the bit.

“Naughty ponies demand more training.”

The man takes her back out to the arena. There, he uses the lead again. In the morning, he had gently allowed her to walk at her own pace. This time, he uses the whip more, forcing her to run. No. Not run. For, after her initial burst, the man cracks the whip under her thighs as she steps, encouraging her to lift  her legs higher in a cruel parody of a trot. This goes on for hours and hours. Pepper watches the sky, the sun, hoping for an end. However, when the sun sets and darkness takes the farm, she feels her desperation rising against this punishment. Her head dips now with each step, her eyes dropping to the ground.

“Ho, ho!” the man calls, lifting the long lead in what Pepper has come to realize is a request to stop. When she freezes abruptly, he asks, “Are you ready to be a good pony?” Pepper nods, her head bobbing up and down as a horse’s would, and his smile returns. “That’s what I thought.”

He brings her back to the barn, to her stall and leads her inside. Only, this time, he does not remove the bit. Instead, he ties Pepper tightly by one of the rings, with only a few inches of slack. Then, the man unbraids Pepper’s tail and carefully brushes it to perfect smoothness. The grooming tugs at whatever fixes the tail to her back uncomfortably. Then, the man steps from the stall and sides the door shut behind him, leaving her tethered to the wall, unable to lie down or even sit.

“We’ll see how you feel in the morning about being a good girl.”

xxx

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xxx

All night, Pepper stands on her hooves. It is not easy. She is tired, and balancing on the balls of her feet requires focus. Every time Pepper feels sleep tugging at her consciousness and feels herself drifting, she nearly tumbles. Any slip, any misstep, tugs on the bit, levering the tongue piece down and gagging her. Each time, Pepper jumps and rights herself as best she can. When she needs to relieve herself, there is no going to the far corner of her stall; after the urge becomes too great, Pepper must stand in her own urine. By the morning, Pepper is an utter wreck, desperate for release and sleep.

When her trainer arrives, Pepper breathes a sigh of relief. That relief is decidedly short lived as he ignores her. Instead, he goes to the equines first, greeting them each by name and giving them all a treat of some kind. Then, he tends to several of the human ponies in turn. It is only _after_ he has seen to all the other denizens of the barn that the man comes to Pepper’s stall.

“Ready to work?”

Pepper bobs her head up and down vigorously – or as much as her short tie will allow. The man smiles and slides the stall door open. He comes to her side and rubs her neck with a broad, warm palm. Pepper feels a moan in her throat, but no sound leaves her mouth. She waits for him to remove the bit to feed her, but, instead, the man opens a pouch of the flavorless, synthetic food and just squeezes it into her mouth over the cruel bit. Pepper chokes as the slimy gruel slides down her throat, unable to swallow really. She coughs and sputters around the bit.

Then, he unties the reins and leads Pepper out for another day of endless circles. This time, there are no encouraging words. He lashes her reins to a fence post at around noon time and squeezes another pouch of food into her mouth over the bit. Then, the man eats his own lunch – a mouth-watering sandwich and chips to Pepper’s eyes, followed by noisily crunching through an apple. After lunch, they return to circles.

When it is time to return to the barn, the man force feeds Pepper another pouch of the gruel and puts her back in her stall. This time, he does not tie her. He removes the reins, but not the bit. It is a small mercy, but Pepper will gratefully accept the ability to actually lie down again for the night. The bit makes it difficult to sleep, as she cannot sleep on her back due to the arm binders and as any shift in her position works the tongue piece.

This cycle repeats for another five days, until Pepper thinks she cannot stand it.

When her trainer comes in the morning the next day, Pepper greets him by standing immediately and going to the ring on the side of the staff without prompting. The man says nothing; he only opens the door and steps inside. As he puts a hand to her neck, Pepper leans into the touch as she has seen both the true equines and the human ponies do.

“Good girl,” he whispers appreciatively. “Very good girl.”

The man showers Pepper with a litany of praise as his hands roam down her neck and back. They massage and rub expertly. Pepper feels herself melting into that touch but schools herself mentally. The business woman knows this is a dangerous game, but she also knows she will need to earn his trust and confidence to earn any sort of reprieve enough to maintain a slim grip on sanity in this crazy place. When he stops, Pepper nuzzles his hand experimentally, and the man responds with more praise.

He unbuckles the bit and slips it from her mouth. Pepper’s jaw aches with stiffness, but she works it slowly. Every little motion of her mouth is almost organismic after so many days with the bit in place. After a time, Pepper looks up and finds the man holding out a sugar cube on his palm, his eyes staring expectantly at her. Pepper suppresses the urge to kick or balk, leans out, and plucks the cube from his palm with a ginger lick of her tongue.

“Good girl,” he praises sweetly as the taste of the sugar explodes on her tongue. “Such a good girl.”

He feeds her a pouch of the flavorless goo and gives her another sugar cube by hand. Then, to Pepper’s surprise, the man leaves the stall and closes the door behind him.

“You’ve been so very good. Take it easy today, ok?”

In the afternoon, he comes for lunch. Pepper rises again from her bed in the straw for another pouch of food and another sugar cube, along with gentle pats and strokes. This time, his touch strays to the base of her back, to where the tail is attached. Pepper shivers from the touch, but she forces herself to stay, even as the man shushes her. He leaves her again for the afternoon.

At around dinner time, Pepper’s trainer returns. He feeds her and gives her a sugar cube in her stall before slipping the bit back into her mouth and swiftly snapping a lead to the d-ring at her left cheek. She jerks on the lead in surprise but yields to his soft utterances and gentle touch. He brings Pepper from the stall and down the length of the barn to a strange room with rubber lined floors and large lamps overhead. He turns Pepper around so she faces out and secures her with crossties to either side of her bridle. Then, the man removes the lead and sets it aside. He unbuckles the complicated harness of straps about her body as well and places that with the lead. Pepper tries to watch and listen through the blinders as the man works, turning on hot, red lamps overhead and setting a few things out, but there is only so much to be seen.

When the water hits her, Pepper jumps in fright. The man chuckles. It is not heavy pressure. Nor is the water cold. Instead, the water is perfectly warm – just the right temperature. The massaging spray feels almost heavenly after days of nothing but dust, sweat, and hay against her once pampered skin. The man works efficiently to hose down all of her body, from the top of her head to the very base of the hooves. He even wets the tail, whistling to himself the whole time.

A voice calls from down the length of the barn. “Frank, you in there?”

Pepper blinks in surprise. Frank? Her captor, her tormentor, her “trainer” is named “Frank?!?” It is somehow so mundane that it is sickening in its banality.

“Yeah, Joe. Just giving the new filly a quick bath.”

“Need a hand?” the voice offers as a second man arrives at the edge of what Pepper now realizes is a wash stall.

“Nah, I got her.”

Pepper flushes as the second man – the stablehand, Joe – settles down to sit on an overturned bucket at the end of the wash stall. However, she has little time to be embarrassed as Frank hands return to her. She jumps in surprise, but Frank merely shushes her gently as he begins to rub her down with soap – something lush and vanilla scented. His strong hands work expertly, loosen her tight muscles and leaving her thoroughly pliant. The whole time, he keeps up a running conversation with the young man at the edge of the stall about training schedules for the actual equines and orders, utterly mundane affairs. He is plotting out a hay delivery when he abruptly reaches between Pepper’s legs to soap up her sex, earning a jolt of surprise and fright from Pepper. She tries to step away, but Frank is too fast.

“Shh, shh,” Frank coos, holding her tighter and rubbing her cunt more insistently. “ _Good_ ponies let their humans take care of them.”

Pepper freezes at clear threat, forcing herself to remain perfectly still. She has already seen what Frank will do for a minor transgression; she does not want to know what he will do if crosses him so quickly after. Instead, despite the shame and hot tears prickling at her cheeks, Pepper stands and allows Frank to continue to massage and soap her genitals. As soon as Frank seems to sense the calm and stillness settling over her, he lifts his restraining hand away and begins to slide his fingers more meaningfully, more probing over her sex and anus. Pepper tenses when those fingers flutter over her clit, but Frank just shushes her gently.

When he seems satisfied, Frank pulls his hands away and showers her with praise. “Good girl. Very good girl.”

He dries the soap from his hands to pull out a sugar cube and slip it between Pepper’s lips. She suckles at the cube, at this _reward_ , but fat, ugly tears roll down her cheeks. Frank simply brushes them away with the pad of his thumb and hoses her down like any other horse. Then, he expertly and efficiently dries her.

Once she is fully dry, Frank turns to the stable hand and asks, “Can you get the bench and sizing kit for me?”

“Sure thing,” the younger man responds before trotting away.

Pepper stands there for a few minutes as they wait, shifting her weight back and forth on those awful hooves of hers. To her surprise, she is not cold, not as she expects to be. Instead, the red lights bathe her in a gentle warmth, keeping her oddly cozy.

In time, Joe returns, toting a strange, wooden frame under one arm and a kit under the other. Cold chills play Pepper as Joe sets the frame in front of her, right at waist level. When Frank fiddles with her leads to release her only to bend her over the frame, Pepper does not fight even as the fear creeps higher and higher in her; the lesson of the week still rings too heavily in her. Frank secures her by the bit to the front of the frame with hefty clips affixed to the d-rings. Joe lends Frank a quick hand, and they bind her down with sturdy leather straps that wrap about her body. Then, each takes one of her legs and ties them securely to the legs of the frame, spreading her eagle.

Now that she is tied down, Joe hands Frank the kit. Pepper strains against the bit to watch, tugging until it is painful. Once Frank spies this, he pauses and pats her gently, stroking down her long neck. He speaks to her in soft tones, meant clearly to be soothing, but it does not penetrate the absolute panic coursing through Pepper’s veins.

“It’s okay, girl. Shh, shh, shh,” Frank croons to Pepper before looking to Joe. “Can you grab a set of blinkers?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Joe trots just out of the wash stall and returns almost as quickly as he disappeared, handing something to Frank. “Here.”

Frank continues to offer a litany of soft, tender utterances to Pepper as he works. She freezes as Frank fiddles with her bridle expertly, his strong hands working to attach something along the top straps before running down the sides. Then, when large, black squares slide beside her eyes, she understands. They are blinding her. Pepper twists and struggles, causing Frank to give just the briefest of pauses to pacifier her before setting the blinkers into place and buckling the final straps. With the blinkers attached, she can only see a small area directly in front of her. Afterwards, Frank just stands there with his hand on her shoulder, allowing Pepper a moment to adjust to her freshly narrowed field of vision.

“There, there. Much better, girl, right?” Frank purrs in her ear, stroking her shoulder warmly.

Frank moves down her back, his hand sliding down her bare skin to her buttocks. All the while, he coos to her, his soft utterances going unheard beneath the roar of Pepper’s blood in her ears. Something snaps behind her, followed by the sound of a cap opening. Pepper hears that, so utterly incongruous to the sounds around her. She stiffens and tenses against her bonds, but they do not give. Something cool dribbles down her crack, sending chills up and down her spine. She freezes at the sensation of rubber clad fingers sliding down her cheeks and over the slick.

“Shh, shh now, darling,” Frank tries to sooth her.

Despite his warm, gentle tone, hot tears prickle at Pepper’s cheeks when she feels that fingertip brushing over her anus. She has never felt so humiliated, so debased, or so filthy in her life as that finger just graces over her flesh, circling her puckered rose bud. Yet, Pepper knows this is only the beginning, and that makes it all the worse. It is only confirmed when Frank nudges ever so gently at her opening with his finger in small, faint probing.

Frank just croons in her ears, “Easy now, sweetheart.”

His words do not make it any easier when his finger actually breeches her. Pepper bites back a sob, clenching her teeth over the bit. Frank moves slowly, tenderly, with caution and care, but it hurts. The shock and horror of this make it all the worse. The tears spill down her cheeks as Pepper shudders.

Then, after a time, Frank’s finger slides out of her. “See, not so bad, right?”

Pepper wants to curse.

“Now, let’s try this one,” Frank muses to himself. “Your owner wanted to make sure we had you properly potty trained. Can’t have you making an embarrassing mess on him in his nice stables.”

Pepper cries when something hard and unyielding presses at her sphincter. It is a rounded tip, but it is alien and hard to her. Frank maintains his slow approach, easing the intruder in and out with easy, practiced motions. Each time, he pushes the thing ever so slightly further in. The object swells in girth as it penetrates deeper and deeper into her. Pepper’s body stretches impossibly around it as it fills her. And, then, the thing tapers, and Pepper’s ass closes around the base, locking the thing inside her. It leaves her feeling abruptly relieved and sickened at the same time.

Frank strokes her cheeks soothingly, patting her approvingly. “There you go. Good girl. Very good girl.” He surveys her with a strange sound. “I think we’ll leave it at just this one for tonight because you’ve been so good.”

Pepper sags in relief that they will remove the plug in her bottom, but it is short lived when she is allowed up and led back to her stall. Now Pepper understands as the thing shifts heavily in her. They leave her overnight to rest, but she does not sleep.

xxx

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xxx

The next morning, when Frank comes for her, he secures Pepper to one of the d-rings in her stall. Then, he holds her by the bridle with one hand and reaches behind her. Pepper tenses, straining to see, but they have not removed her blinders. Frank’s hand falls upon the plug and works it in slow, lazy movements. Pepper feels a silent whine rising in her throat, but, after a time, Frank merely eases the plug from her and sets it aside.

“There you go, girl. You can go now.”

And, to Pepper’s very great horror, she does.

Frank praises her, offering her a sugar cube, a nutrient pouch, and fresh apple slices. In her stunned panic, Pepper accepts all of this. Then, Frank guides her from her stall back to the wash stall. He cleans her and dries her before replacing her leather harness. He sets the bench in front of her and forces her to lean over it. Pepper cries silently as he does, sobbing brokenly when Frank replaces the plug from the day before with something much larger.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “Let’s go work.”

And they do.

xxx

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xxx

The days begin to form a sickening pattern for Pepper. Every morning, Frank comes to greet her. He removes her plug, allowing Pepper to relieve herself. Afterwards, he feeds her a nutrient pouch before taking her to the wash stall. Then, she is bathed, groomed, and tacked up fully for the day. Afterwards, Frank sticks a plug in her, occasionally selecting one of a larger size. While her body adjusts to the fresh intruder and she cries, her trainer pours the praise upon her, stroking her hair and massaging her shoulders.

Once Frank has decided Pepper has had enough time to settle down, he takes her out to one of the training arenas. There, he puts her through her paces for a morning training session. He guides her to learn the various paces, movements, and postures of a pony. He teaches her to kick out her legs as she walks in an elaborate display of a high step – something Frank dubs a “Spanish Walk.” He adjusts her movements to produce a trot and the sleeker, extended trot. It takes time for Pepper to figure out canter, which is something of a lopsided skipping motion. He teaches her to half-pass, to cross the diagonals of the arena with her hips and body facing forward – no easy feat in the ludicrous hooves. On and on, Frank goes, increasing the complexity of motions demanded of Pepper.

When she is good, Pepper is praised. She is called ‘good girl,’ ‘nice girl,’ and ‘pretty pony.’ Frank’s hands are soft on her mouth through the bit and caressing of her body afterwards. When he works her on a good day, Frank barely touches her with the whip, letting the tip barely brush her skin to convey his demands. When she behaves, afterwards, Frank rubs down her aching, throbbing body and feeds her treats. Treats for Pepper are sugar cubes, apple slices, baby carrots, or even pieces of white bread, yet it is amazing how her palette craves such humble fair after so long with only nutrient pouches. After her treat, Frank brings her back to the wash stall, untacks her, rinses her off, and returns Pepper to her stall for a break.

When she is bad, Pepper is punished. She is called ‘brat’ and ‘bad pony.’ Frank is rough with the bit, letting the cruel metal dig into her gums where her teeth are gone. He levers the bit so the tongue port presses down, gagging her viciously. He whips her harshly then, hard enough to sting bitterly. When she is bad, Frank lets her know it in every way he can.

When she is truly naughty, Frank takes her to what he calls the “hot-walker,” a mechanical contraption that reminds Pepper of a giant fan. Frank clips her to the hot-walker and turns it on, letting it drag her about in a circle. He always starts it slow for the first few moments, so Pepper can get used to it, but, then, Frank brings it up fast enough that Pepper must trot to keep up or risk being yanked off her feet. Frank the leaves her to run alone. A part of Pepper knows Frank is monitoring her somehow, for he always seems to know when she is about to break down, but the loneliness is painful all the same.

Either way, a nutrient pouch is always lunch, along with a long break in the quiet dark of her stall. When Pepper is good, she is allowed to rest without her leather harness and without the cruel bit in her mouth. When she is good, Pepper is left untied, so she can walk, sit, or lie down even. When she is bad, Pepper is tied in her stall and left in her harness so she can only stand.

After the respite, Frank returns to her. If she has been good, he offers her the bit. If she takes it, then Frank leads her from her stall out, into the sunshine and out to the paddocks. The first time, Pepper had been wary, unable to see with her blinders anything other than the path directly in front of her. However, she has come to learn that Frank will not let her be hurt by anyone or the world around them. He takes her to a quiet pasture and lets her loose.

The first time, Pepper had been so excited at the chance at freedom, she had bolted from Frank’s hand as soon as the trainer let her loose. She had run up and down the pasture in hopes of escaping. However, Pepper has learned since then. The pastures have high fences, too high for her too jump. The fences have too small of gaps between the planks for her to fit. With her hands bound in those ridiculous mitts behind her back, Pepper cannot climb the fence, either. Even if she could, Pepper knows better – she has seen the electrified tape that lines the fence, too. Escape is simply not in the cards. Instead, the only thing she can do is pace the field or lounge in the tall, soft grass beneath any of the lush trees until Frank comes to bring her back to the barn for dinner.

If Pepper does not willingly take the bit from Frank, or if she has been naughty in the morning, it is back to the hot-walker for the afternoon. In time, Pepper learns to avoid the hot-walker by behaving. In time, she spends more and more afternoons in the pasture, slowly coming to look forward to the long, somnolent hours of nothingness. It horrifies her how complacent she has become.

Then, at night, Pepper is left in her stall to cry herself to sleep, for, as every day passes, she realizes no one is coming for her.

xxx

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xxx

One day, out of the blue, Frank does not take her out for training in the morning. Instead, in the morning, he bathes and grooms her to perfection. He massages her body with lavish oils, polishing her until her skin shines. He shaves the sides of her head to produce a “mane” of her regrowing hair before plaiting it into little nubs. Frank replaces her tack with a whole new harness and bridle of supple, soft, elegant leather. He even plaits her tail into an elaborate design. Pepper even catches sight of the plug he intends to put in her, spotting the gleaming, blue jewel that adorns her own bum after he inserts the thing.

She shivers in fright. Something is happening, something big. It has taken her this long to get used to Frank’s routine that anything out of place is downright terrifying. Frank just tuts her and pats her gently.

“Shh, shh.” When Pepper settles, Frank beams. “There’s my good girl.” He runs his hand down her flank. “You’re my good pony, right?”

Pepper bobs her head up and down; she knows better than to displease Frank. Pepper knows he will not beat or torture her, but he will make her pay for displeasing him. He smiles at her response and leads her from the barn. For a moment, Pepper queerly thinks they are going to the pasture, but Frank turns her away and to the road. There, standing with its back gate open, is a horse trailer.

Pepper tenses and pulls at the reins, balking at the sight of the trailer, but Frank holds her steady. “Shh, shh, girl.” He puts a hand to the back of her neck to hold her better and press her forward. “Walk on, girl. Walk on.” Pepper hesitantly yields to Frank’s pressure, stepping closer to the trailer warily; Frank beams. “Good pony.”

Slowly, allowing her time to come of her own, free will, Frank leads Pepper up the ramp and into the trailer. Every step of the way, Frank encourages her warmly. He draws her inward and secures her by the bridle in the front of the trailer.

Frank lingers for a moment before sighing, “Well, we both knew this was coming, girl. Graduation day, eh?” He leans close to her and rubs Pepper’s neck. “You be a good pony and make me proud for your owner.”

Then, just like that, Frank leaves her, and it is time to go.

xxx

xxxxx

xxx

The drive takes hours. This time, Pepper is steady enough on her hooves to balance and look out as they drive. She has no idea where they are, though, or where they are taking her. It is all unfamiliar territory to her.

With every vehicle that passes, Pepper stares balefully and hopefully at them, trying desperately to beg with her eyes for attention. Not a single driver even bats an eye at her. She tries anyway. Once, Pepper even catches the eye of a little boy in the back seat of a car. He waves at her, and it raises her heart. Pepper nods to him dramatically, but, then, the boy merely sticks his tongue out at her and holds up a little, toy horse. Pepper understands then. No one on the highway sees her as a human anymore. She is just another pony.  After that, Pepper does not look at the other cars or trucks anymore.

Her head spins with the wheels below, pondering her “investor” or “owner.” Someone has sunk plenty of money into her breaking and training. They spent time and effort before that framing her with the IRSE into debt and this servitude. Yet, no matter where Pepper’s mind turns, she cannot fathom who would have done this, who would want her as a pony. The only people who might want to are all behind bars like Obadiah.

After night falls, the trailer slows to a crawl and turns down a narrow drive. Pepper perks up and peers out the windows of the trailer, but she does not recognize this place. The rounds are tidy and manicured, tucked behind what appears to be a tall, white privacy wall. The grass is clipped to a flat, neat surface, like carpet. The bushes have been trimmed into elegant hedgerows. The pasture fences and arenas are lined with pure, white fences that look fresh and newly set. The barn also looks large and brand new. The truck stops there in front of the barn.

Pepper pricks her ears to the driver as someone approaches the truck in the dark, but she cannot hear more than a murmur between them. Then, there are footsteps alongside the other side of the trailer. Pepper strains against her ties until the bit digs painfully into her gums and tongue, yet she cannot see. The trailer is thrown open, the ramp dropped, but the figures remain silhouetted in the dark. It freezes the blood in Pepper’s veins to know that one of these strangers is the person who did this to her.

Then, one of the figures come bounding up the trailer, and a male voice greets her. “Hey, Pep.”

Pepper’s heart leaps; she knows that voice and that figure. It is Tony! Pepper could dance for joy to know it is Tony. He has finally rescued her. She grins madly around the bit, knowing in just a few seconds, Tony will take the bit from her mouth, remove the horrible tack from her body, and take her home nice and safe. He approaches slowly, as though in shock, but Pepper knows how shocking she must appear in this get-up.

Yet, when he draws near, he does not untie the reins; he just lets out a low, appreciative whistle. “Would you look at that? A pony.”

Pepper shakes her head. This is no time for Tony’s jokes or teasing, not after all these months in her bonds and servitude. No. She needs him to let her loose so she can clean up, get dressed, and set to figuring out exactly who did this to her.

“You look good as a pony,” Tony purrs, his eyes roving over her body and her many restraints.

“That’s not the way good ponies behave for their owners.”

Pepper’s heart stops in her chest as Tony unties the reins and gives them a gentle tug. Pepper freezes, digging her heels in. But Tony is stronger than her, and he is not on those horrid hooves. When he pulls, Tony drags her by the bit.

“Oh, c’mon, Pep. You had to know this was coming,” Tony croons to her as she shakes her head, as hot tears roll down her cheeks.

Pepper’s mind reels back over the evidence. Who else could so easily frame her? Who else but Tony could get electronic access to her assets and finances while simultaneously providing all the necessary medical documents to IRSE? Who else could manufacture such convincing of security footage of ‘Pepper’ running away from the Malibu intake? Only Tony Stark could do such things, could have the money to finance such expenses and still easily invest in her debt.

“You know I couldn’t let you leave me. You know I would _never_ let you leave me like you tried to.” Pepper sobs brokenly without sound, but Tony is firm with his hands, ferrying her down the ramp. “And, now, my good pony Pepper will never leave me.”

He turns with a flourish to the barn, to the name on the door that is emblazoned with neat, printed words carved on a red, wooden sign and painted in gold. ‘STARK STABLES.’

Tony smiles sickly. “Welcome home, Pepper"

**Author's Note:**

> For everyone who enjoys ponyplay and bondage as a healthy, consensual, safe, and sane extension to their lifestyle, kudos. Sorry if I have offended and play on. XD 
> 
> For everyone else, I'm just sorry this trash-panda story hit my head. I really don't know where it came from.


End file.
